


Binary

by AnarchyandArmistice



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Also i guess mutual pining, Alternate Universe - Human, Be like Virgil, Don't do it, Dramaturg Logan, Even if they act like schoolchildren, Logan hates feelings and Virgil is Unhelpful, M/M, Oh yea Roman's from Mississippi, Punk Logan, Punk Virgil, Smoking is bad kids, That's why he talks that way at the end, Theater nerd Roman, They're adults I swear, thats it thats the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 03:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20302489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnarchyandArmistice/pseuds/AnarchyandArmistice
Summary: Logan calls bullshit. Logan calls so much fucking bullshit.





	Binary

"It's all such fucking bullshit."

The cigarette between his teeth drips ash on his tongue. Virgil looks over. The silver of his lip ring glints in the afternoon sun. Logan stares at the cinderblock wall in front of him, most definitely not avoiding prying eyes.

"Oho, specs," Virgil teases, using that _fucking _prince's nickname. "Is that _ire _in your tone?"

Logan grits his teeth. He stares at his hands, at the fingerless gloves Virgil gave him years ago. "Bullshit," he mutters again. 

Virgil's eyebrows creep up into his maroon hairline. "Alright," he says, resting his forearms on the seat of Logan's Norton. "I'll bite. What's bullshit today, teach?" The toothpick between his teeth cants up, mocking Logan.

"That fucking _prince," _Logan admits, running a hand through his hair. 

"Oh? You finally realize you're gone for pretty boy at the theater?" The toothpick wiggles at him as Virgil grins. 

"Oh, fuck you," Logan snaps, "You took three and a half years to tell Patton anything."

"Maybe," Virgil admits, twisting the ring on his left hand. "But I'm still farther ahead. Now, tell me about your gay 'oh my god I actually have feelings' panic." 

Logan takes a deep breath. "Im–I just–I–" The words he wants to relate give way to a snarl. "Dammit. _This _is why I hate _feelings." _

Virgil snickers, toothpick bobbing, at the venom in his tone.

"I know exactly who I am," Logan plows on, "I am emotionless, cold, calculating, _whatever–_I think in binary because it comes easier than English. I exist outside of a form of zeroes and ones only because I haven't figured out how _not _to. I know myself."

Virgil tilts his head forward, encouraging, and Logan is glad he's here and not Patton, because Patton might derail this conversation to talk about _those _thoughts, and yes Logan realizes he probably should, but right now he's focused on–

"But then _Roman Prince _barrels into my life, screaming about needing a dramaturg, of all things, how fucking stupid is that, and suddenly my line of code is broken by strokes of color, and there are reds and blues and greens and purples and a violent _squirming_ in my stomach, which apparently people call _butterflies, _and a warm–" Logan waves his hands in front of his chest like it means something–_"thing _in my chest I can't _find _a name for. What I _do _find is that up is down and black is white, that my world is _utterly engulfed _by Roman Prince, and I don't know myself anymore!"

Logan's chest heaves. Blood pulses through his veins. He steps back, swallowing. Is this how it always feels? This... racing, racing, _racing__? _

Exhausting. 

"Wow."

Logan cuts a sharp look at Virgil. _"So _helpful of you."

Virgil hums in apparent agreement. "It was, wasn't it?" He spits his ruined toothpick into his hand and turns to walk away. "Besides, no one can help you now. You've got it bad."

He turns the corner and disappears out of their alley without another word.

Logan huffs, moving to mount his Norton. 

"Lo?"

A bolt of lightning shoots down Logan's spine (in a metaphorical sense, unfortunately). 

When he turns, standing right there, gold combat boots standing strong on cracked, shitty concrete, is the five-foot-tiny, larger than life, adorable, insufferable Roman Prince.

"Did–did you really mean all'a that, Lo?" Roman asks, hands clasped and fidgeting.

Logan calls bullshit. Logan calls so much fucking bullshit.

**Author's Note:**

> So I know this was called 'Binary,' and that's appropriate, but I want you to know that in my heart it's titled 'In Which Logan's Favorite Word is Bullshit.'


End file.
